Indulge me. Some of these are actually funny. And if I’m whining too much, just tell me so. The Ambulatory Mollusc will have book plugs later. For now, here are some surprising things I’ve learned about recovery. ((Mind you, I’ve had major surgery — Caesarean — once before, but then there was a new born and also I was recovering from Pre-eclampsia, so the entire time is foggy. I have a vague memory it was a year before I could get up before noon, which clearly isn’t the case now.)
1- Even while not on Opiates, my brain is dropping and/or forgetting things. It’s like a preview of dementia. Mind you I’m normally scatterbrained while writing, so the family might not see any difference, but it bugs me.
2- Having a sixteen pound cat jump on you might cause major damage.
3- My men have really weird ideas of where things go in the kitchen.
4- When Disney comics become too intricate to follow, it’s time for a nap.
5- my natural writing-burst length has become a 100 words. Don’t like. Contains live bobcat. Would not order again.
6- Cabin fever strikes even while I’m sick.
7 – I need a minder.
7a- I need a minder because I can never remember when I last took the meds I’m supposed to be on. That one of these falls in the night is a problem, as I often dream I took it. I’m counting pills a lot.
7b- I need a minder because if I get even slightly tired, I’m exactly like other people when drunk. (Explanation — when drunk, unless there’s complications, like pills I forgot I’d taken — I just become relentlessly dry and logical) I.e. last night the “Hillary wiped her server” set me off and I spent the rest of the evening manufacturing increasingly goofy memes with bad Hillary pictures until I couldn’t see. Could have been worse. I could have put on a snazzy hat and gone directing traffic at a nearby intersection. This seems to be what drunk people do in Portugal.
7c – I need a minder because logic isn’t working right, so I make the weirdest leaps in thought, and then can’t retrace them. This led to the famous “where’s your antibiotic, Sarah?” “Don’t know. Might have given it to a passing stranger.”
8 – It seemed perfectly logical for me to assume that my doctor was delusional when she said it turned into abdominal (non laparoscopic) surgery. I couldn’t find the scar, so I thought she’d dreamed it (hey, seemed reasonable. Remember I was high as a kite.) Well, lost some weight, found the incision, which is bigger than my Caeserean one. Of course now it hurts. I hate my mind so much.
9- I have less will power.
This is a problem whether the thing I need will power for is not eating the wrong stuff or not snapping some idiot’s head off on facebook. Yeah, I probably should stay off facebook, or at least off arguments.
10 – I am a freak of nature. My dad, with whom I get very well along otherwise, used to introduce me to people with “This is my daughter, she doesn’t like TV” I think he evolved it as a way of warning people that small talk about soap operas or detective serials wouldn’t work. However the effect was more “See the two headed freak.” Normally this doesn’t bother anyone, except sometimes Dan has to point out I wouldn’t know actors if they bit me in the *ss. Because asking me “You KNOW, John Von Blob, wasn’t he in Three Sheets To The Wind?” Just gets you a blank look. So, how does this tie in to the situation?
Apparently the way most Americans recover from surgery is a movie-coma. Everyone and their brothers is recommending series/other stuff.
a) I’m not visual. This means it takes me more effort to CARE about the story on the screen. Most of the stuff I’ve “watched” (Buffy was the last one to catch me, I think) I actually “listen” to, because I’m doing something else, with occasional glances at the screen.
b) Most tv has embedded Marxist messages which most of you might not get. But I was bitten by Marxist dialectic early in life. So I see them. And then I want to throw stuff through the TV. Besides the fact this would make Dan sad, think what it would do to my incisions.
c) TRUST me when I say if you know how to plot a book most tv plots are so predictable it makes your eyes glaze. Now, if this is something like “love affair predictable” that’s fine. But most of those have those pesky messages. See b.
d) Most of what I enjoy watching are mystery series/movies, and I’ve watched all of those I can tolerate.
11 – I can write, I just need to watch it because of those weird leaps of logic, so I can’t write anything I care about just now. This has led to some experimental stuff. (No, I’m not sharing. Well, maybe if you’re very good.)
12- This too shall pass. Eventually I’ll get the other house done, with directing the guys or not, and it will be for sale. Eventually novels will be finished (well maybe not Through Fire. Might be cursed.
In the mean time, I’ll wend my loopy, ill-controlled way to recovery. There’s going to be a lot of documentaries, Disney comics, stupid memes (some even non-political) and cat pictures, though.